


A Day at the Beach

by MarzgaPerez



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Aftermath, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Family Feels, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 06:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15966626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarzgaPerez/pseuds/MarzgaPerez
Summary: Inspired by the conversation between June and Nick about running away to Maui (S2, E12).Set a few years later, probably on a Canadian beach...and just because they deserve some happiness.





	A Day at the Beach

Nick thinks I should rest. He pats the slight bump of my midsection.  _Fertile Myrtle,_ as Moira likes to call me. I’ve threatened to name this baby after her. Or maybe it’s a promise.

I stay with Nick and Holly for a few more minutes before I retreat to the shade of our multi-colored umbrella. Closing my eyes, I soak in my surroundings. The sound of Holly’s laughter rises above the noise of the waves breaking against the shore. The gulls are chirping, and I can hear faint chatter from other beach-goers. I suppose this is what freedom sounds like.

I open my eyes, wondering if I’m dreaming. But Holly’s still there in front of me. Her dark curls bounce around her shoulders as she hops merrily through the retreating waves. She’s wearing the yellow polka dot swimsuit from Moira. Reds and blues are off limits as far as I’m concerned. Pink too.

Hannah’s still asleep, locked up safe and sound in the condo we rented, which is the other place I turn my attention to every few minutes. She’ll come out on the balcony and signal me once she’s awake. I’m trying to give her some space and not smother her. Hannah’s been okay with Nick and Holly in the picture, but it’s still new to her. All of this.

Luke got a place nearby. It’s hard for him to be away from Hannah, even if it’s only for a few days. And as far as me and Luke are concerned, it’s complicated. Nick’s letting us work things out - however we need to - for Hannah’s sake. Besides, it’s not as though there’s ever been a guidebook written for a situation like ours.

Nick glances over at me and nods over at Holly. He wants to make sure that I’m soaking in the sheer delight our daughter is exuding. I nod back, silently acknowledging that the impossible has somehow been made possible.

Scooping Holly up into his arms, Nick promises her a snack and starts over towards our spot. His already tan skin has browned even more under the brightness of the sun. Like most men, he’s stubborn about wearing sunblock.

My eye catches the scars along his back from where he was whipped for helping me smuggle Holly out of Gilead. Waterford would have killed him if not for Serena pleading for his life.

At least those scars have healed over. I’m not so sure about the ones we’ve buried inside of us. Instinctively, I touch my belly. New life used to mean hope. It still does.

“Mama! Ocean!” Holly is beaming from ear to ear as she points back to the water.

“Isn’t it beautiful, baby?” I stroke her sweet little face. She’s going to town on the crackers Nick retrieved from our bag, shoveling them into her mouth. Nick smiles at her unrelenting appetite. He’s already lost our bet about whether she’d try to eat the sand.

It was just a few minutes after we’d set up her sand bucket and shovel that Holly pinched some sand between her fingers and lifted it up to her mouth to taste. She made a face and stuck her tongue out, turning to see if we were watching. It was all I could do not to laugh. I grabbed Nick’s arm to hold back my amusement as Holly tried in vain to rid her mouth of the sand. After a few seconds, she gave up and went back to playing in it, but poor Nick was dumbfounded. _Why? Why do kids do that?_

If you’d told Nick Blaine three years ago that he was on his way to becoming a father of two and a high ranking advisor to the resistance efforts in Gilead, he would have reported you to his superiors. Hell, if you’d told me three years ago that I’d be a mother of two with another on the way and a high ranking communications director for the resistance, I would have laughed in your face.

Or maybe I would have believed you. Red was never my color.


End file.
